


Thank the Gods

by Python07



Series: If Looks Could Kill [16]
Category: Forever (TV), The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Angst, Crack Crossover, M/M, Minor Injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-05
Updated: 2016-09-05
Packaged: 2018-08-13 02:33:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7958941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Python07/pseuds/Python07
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Richelieu returns to Paris and Aurelian has nothing but bad news for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thank the Gods

Aurelian stumbled into the darkness of Gemma’s apartment. He kept his injured arm by his side, blood dripping on the floor. It took a few tries but he managed to light a brace of candles and the lamp with his good hand.

He made sure the door and all the windows were secure. He made sure all the curtains were drawn before he stripped out of his outer robes. He unlaced the top of his linen shirt and cut the material loose around his injured arm. He had to lean forward before he could pull the shirt off.

He scowled at the wicked, jagged cut that ran from his wrist along his forearm. “Filius a canis.”

There was a quick burst of two knocks on the door. He stiffened. He silently reached for his dagger.

“Ego est,” the familiar voice called through the wood. 

Aurelian sighed in relief and dropped the danger on a table. He opened the door for Richelieu. “Diis gratias tu es propinquus.” 

Richelieu slipped in and shut the door behind him. He locked it. He was dressed in a traveling cloak with the hood up over his head. “I snuck into the city just before the gates closed for the night.”

Aurelian leaned forward and rested his forehead against Richelieu’s shoulder. His arm was still dripping on the floor but he didn’t care. He let out a shuddering breath.

Richelieu didn’t care about the blood either. He put his hood down and wrapped Aurelian in a hug. “Id est bonum. ego sum tibi,” he murmured soothingly. 

Aurelian took a deep breath and pulled away. “How did you find me?”

“Let me see to your arm and we’ll talk.” Richelieu led Aurelian to the small stand with a jug of water and basin. He pushed Aurelian to sit down on the edge of the bed. “Do you have anything to try and take the edge off?”

Aurelian waved to a cabinet. “Bottle of cheap wine.”

Richelieu went to get it. “I started at the Palais Cardinal but you weren’t there. Then I snuck into the Louvre through the underground tunnels. I thought maybe Louis insisted you stay the night there.”

Aurelian winced. He took the bottle and pulled the cork out with his teeth. He spit the cork onto the floor and took a drink. “I try to take my leave of him before he can make the suggestion. Honestly, I don’t know you dealt with him all these years.”

“He’s not that bad.” Richelieu pulled a chair close so he could sit in front of Aurelian. He set the lamp close. Then he filled the basin. He wet a cloth and gently took Aurelian’s arm to start cleaning the wound.

Aurelian hissed in pain. “Yes, he is.” He took a swig from the bottle. He bared his teeth. “He has the mood swings of a woman on her cycle and has the common sense the gods gave a brick.”

Richelieu rinsed the cloth and continued cleaning the wound. He chuckled. “You just have to know how to handle him.”

“The only one who’s been able to do that effectively lately has been Rochefort,” Aurelian snarled back.

Richelieu sighed. He didn’t look at Aurelian’s face, instead keeping his gaze on the wound. His fingers stilled. “I didn’t expect that.”

Aurelian’s shoulders slumped. He leaned forward again to rest his forehead against Richelieu’s. “I know,” he said heavily. “You expected him to turn to the Queen, Treville, and Marzarin as your named successor.”

Richelieu closed his eyes. “I thought the three of them together could help him govern well, could give him strength. I thought I left things stable enough.”

Aurelian took a moment for them to just breathe together. Then he straightened up. He took another drink. “Your death hit him hard,” he said softly. “And we both know that no one could really replace you. He lost interest in the Queen once the Dauphin was born and a new woman caught his eye. He wouldn’t even receive Mazarin. And when Treville rejected the offer of your position, he completely closed himself off from the Captain and his favored regiment.”

Richelieu opened his eyes. He smiled wryly and went back to tending Aurelian’s wound. “That was the only answer Treville could give. He doesn’t have the stomach to be a politician.”

“He should’ve tried,” Aurelian scoffed. “His bluff, honest soldier routine left Rochefort to fill the void. He has a strength the King admires.”

“So does Jean.” Richelieu finished cleaning the wound. “Where are your supplies?” he asked briskly.

Aurelian nodded to the wardrobe. “Top shelf. And you know what I mean, Lucius. Treville is honor bound and very quiet about it. Rochefort is flashy and will do things that Treville finds distasteful without blinking an eye. Rochefort acts while Treville reacts.”

Richelieu stood. “That doesn’t sound like Jean.”

Aurelian blew out a long breath. “I didn’t think I would say this, but your death affected him too. He didn’t know how to react to Louis’ coldness or to Rochefort’s moves. He was paralyzed by indecision. I think he believed that the King would come back around to him, that if he acted as he always had, all would return to normal.”

“But normal requires the Cardinal,” Richelieu said sourly. “Requires me to be the firm hand while Jean can be the friend and protector.”

Aurelian shook his head in disgust. “Lucius, he lets the King walk all over him without so much as a word. He takes everything silently.” He paused and rolled his eyes. “Like a stoic.”

Richelieu’s eyes flashed. “Don’t compare Jean to Cato.” 

Aurelian stuck his chin out. “We may have hated Cato as he hated all our clan, but he never backed down.”

“True,” Richelieu admitted. “And it takes steel to stab oneself and pull out your own entrails.” He retrieved a leather bag stamped with the emblem of the tenth legion. He took his seat and pulled out a wooden box. He opened it to find needle and thread. His lips twisted into a grimace. “This won’t be pretty. It’s been a long time since I’ve had to do field stitches.”

Aurelian shrugged that off. “The scars will disappear when I awake from my next death.”

Richelieu stuck the needle into Aurelian’s skin with a light, deft hand. “Your letters have been vague lately. Tell me more about Rochefort.”

Aurelian bit his bottom lip. “I followed him only to discover that he’s a Spanish spy.”

Richelieu kept his attention on the task at hand. “I know and that’s not a surprise.”

Aurelian took another mouthful of wine. He pressed his lips together against the pain and some of it trickled down over his chin. “He ingratiated himself immediately with the King when he stepped into court and belted Ambassador Perales in the mouth.”

“And you wrote something about Rochefort taking a squad of musketeers to rescue General de Foix from a Spanish prison.”

Aurelian nodded jerkily. “Yes. It helped solidify his reputation as a hero in the King’s eyes and got him command of the Red Guard. I think he wanted the musketeers to die during the mission.”

“Probably,” Richelieu agreed dryly. “But musketeers don’t die easy.”

“It’s unfortunate for de Foix that he wasn’t a musketeer then. He was shot during the escape. He made it back to Paris but died two days later.” Aurelian grunted. “And then the King decided to do something monumentally stupid.”

One end of Richelieu’s mouth quirked up. “We can skip over the idiocy of pretending to be a peasant and being kidnapped by slavers. You went into that at length.”

“The worst part is that Rochefort didn’t even have to try and blame the musketeers for that fiasco.” Aurelian paused for another drink of wine. “The King came to that decision on his own. Did Treville try to defend his men or help the King see reason? No.”

Richelieu tied off the stitches. “That may not have helped. It might have only made things worse.”

Aurelian growled. “But it turned out to be just another opening for Rochefort. When that hothead, d’Artagnan, refused to kill a man because Louis promised him a pardon, Rochefort stepped forward and ran the man through himself. Now, it’s firmly in Louis’ mind that Rochefort is the one he can depend on. This king really has no sense whatsoever.”

Richelieu cleaned the last of the blood off Aurelian’s skin. “Sextus,” he warned.

“I know,” Aurelian sighed. “Then we had General Alaman, a Spanish moor, seek refuge with Louis. He offered the secret of an explosive powder if the musketeers could get his daughter back.”

Richelieu grimaced. “Let me guess. They failed.”

“Yes, in spectacular fashion,” Aurelian answered with a hint of envy. “Alaman not only destroyed his enemies but the entire building they were holding him hostage in. The King didn’t want to hear any excuses. All he saw was that Treville and his men failed again.”

Richelieu pulled the bandages out of Aurelian’s bag to wrap the wound. “Continue,” he ordered curtly.

Aurelian set the wine bottle on the nearby stand. “I wrote to you of Emilie of Duras.”

“Yes, the supposed prophet, with a rabble army.”

Aurelian snickered. “It turns out her visions came from soup.”

Richelieu paused to arch an eyebrow at Aurelian. “Truly?”

Aurelian nodded. “Her mother poisoned her to prompt the visions. Once the musketeers helped Emilie dry out, she disbanded her army. It’s a good thing, too, or the Red Guard would’ve slaughtered them.”

Richelieu went back to his task. “Was this before or after you faked Perales’ death?”

“During.” Aurelian stopped. He bit his lip, this time from nerves instead of pain. “We got Perales out of the city with no one but me, Treville, and a few select musketeers knowing. However, there was an unintended consequence.”

Richelieu tilted his head to the side to show he was paying attention. “What?”

Aurelian hesitated for only a split second. “The King stripped Treville of his command as a measure to appease the Spanish over Perales.”

Richelieu calmly and silently finished wrapping the wound. He sat back in his chair. He folded his arms across his chest and ran a hand over his face. “Oh, Jean,” he murmured. “To have your loyalty repaid in such a way.”

Aurelian went to his knees in front of Richelieu. He rested his hands on Richelieu’s knees. “Rochefort sticks to the King’s side. He’s played on all of the King’s worst fears and worked to isolate him from the rest of court, especially the Queen. He’s made himself indispensable.” He grabbed Richelieu’s hand and squeezed. “He’s First Minister now.”

Richelieu’s head jerked up. “First Minister?”

Aurelian sighed sympathetically. “Yes.” 

Richelieu grabbed the half empty bottle of wine. He grunted in disgust at the taste and set the bottle back to the side. “That is awful.”

“And that’s the best from the tavern across the street.” Aurelian’s amusement rapidly faded. His face grew hard. “Rochefort’s working to undo everything you’ve built. Not only has he poisoned the King against everyone else, he’s killed the treaty with Sweden.”

“What?” 

“The real Princess Louise is dead. The woman, who took her place, and manservant were hired assassins. They killed the real Louise before she could leave Lombardy. They murdered the Archbishop and attempted to kill Chancellor Dupre before the musketeers finally stopped them.”

“Rochefort’s trying to eliminate the King’s Council. DeBarville?”

“No one’s seen him in over a week.”

Richelieu ran his free hand through his hair. “Then he’s dead.”

“Probably,” Aurelian agreed gravely. 

Richelieu leaned forward to touch their foreheads together again. “Is that why those men attacked you? You have influence with the King?”

“How did you know?” Aurelian whispered.

Richelieu rested his free hand on the side of Aurelian’s head. “I didn’t find you at the Louvre but I overheard Rochefort giving those men their orders. I followed them.”

“You shot three of them. I was wondering where those shots came from.”

“I took care of the rest after they ran from you. They won’t be reporting their failure back to Rochefort.”

Aurelian eased back reluctantly. “There’s one other thing.”

Richelieu leaned back with a heavy sigh. “Yes?”

Aurelian swallowed. He opened his mouth, but hesitated. He squeezed Richelieu’s hand harder.

Richelieu straightened up in his seat. “Sextus?”

Aurelian licked his lips anxiously. His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. “They shot Treville.”

**Author's Note:**

> Latin translations (courtesy of Google translate):
> 
> Filius a canis -- Son of a bitch
> 
> Ego est -- It's me
> 
> Diis gratias tu es propinquus -- Thank the gods it’s you, cousin
> 
> Id est bonum. ego sum tibi -- It’s all right. I have you


End file.
